


Dance Macabre

by palomino333



Series: Pandora-verse [14]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Married Life, Married Sex, Multi, Past Torture, Step-parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 05:16:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17636633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palomino333/pseuds/palomino333
Summary: Set directly before and after The Voyage Home. McCoy and Spock attempt to return to a sense of normalcy after the fal-tor-pan.Originally appeared in Spiced Peaches Zine LV.





	Dance Macabre

Kirk felt as if he was in a haze as the guards took McCoy's limp body from him to load onto a gurney. Darkness passed in shades over McCoy's hair and skin as he was ferried away, leaving Kirk within Spock's room. It had mutated into a tomb, of sorts, and he felt a chill running down his spine.

"What were his readings, until now?" Kirk asked quietly, his hands clasped as he sat beside his friend's bio-bed in sick bay. The top half of McCoy's uniform had been removed to allow a heart monitor to be rigged. An oxygen mask was on McCoy's face to steady his breathing.

Chapel glanced up at him. "The activity in his brain was growing more erratic. I'd attempted a stabilization, but it was a patch."

Kirk reached out and grasped McCoy's hand between both of his. Running his top hand over his fingers, he asked, quietly, "This is it, then?"

"From here, all we can do is make him comfortable." Chapel raised her eyes. "Admiral, I would suggest sedating him. His behavior is a danger to himself."

"Only by his choice," Kirk replied.

Chapel nodded. "I will speak with him about this. Until he wakes up, you'll be better off getting work done elsewhere."

Kirk nodded at her prod for him to leave and left. A few corridors outside, Sulu was giving out orders to the departing crewmembers. Turning his head at Kirk's approach, he greeted, "Admiral."

"How is everyone, Mr. Sulu?"

"Shaken. Likely, we won't see the same crewmembers returning. Careful with that, ensign," he said as a cadet shifted his grip on a crate before walking down and off the ship.

Sulu folded his hands behind his back. "Pavel has agreed to return home with me. Demora hasn't seen him for several months."

"How are you and her doing?" Kirk asked.

Sulu shook his head. "Not very well. She is still refusing to talk to me after the Kobyashi Maru incident at the Academy. Perhaps having Pavel with us again will help to smooth things over. He's better with her than I am."

"She seems like a good kid, Hikaru," Kirk replied, "She just made a mistake. We all do."

"It's not the fact that she made a mistake. It's that she lied to me about it," he explained, his tone becoming uncomfortable, "Nevertheless, she will have other reasons to be angry with me."

Kirk smiled at that. "Ah, that's right. The command trac. I'm proud of with you."

Sulu gave a nod. "Thank you, sir." He lowered his eyes. "I fear that I won't have time for her, in the coming years."

Kirk shrugged. "Things have become different from when we first began exploring, though. We can take families with us. McCoy's daughter does it."

"An idea I, admittedly, find unsafe," he replied, "You know how many of us did not return. And what happened to Pavel …I have much to think on."

Carol's blonde head bobbed, catching Kirk's eye. She turned her head from where she was in conversation with David. Kirk held up a hand in farewell, and she returned his gesture before guiding David away, both of their arms loaded with equipment. Daivd gave him a long look but said nothing.

Chapel nodded at McCoy's vitals as her patient groggily opened his eyes. He seemed confused for a moment until registering her presence. Reaching up, he slowly pulled off the oxygen mask. "Well, this is embarrassing."

"It could have been worse," she replied. Regretfully, she added, "Sorry, Len."

"What ruckus did I cause?" He inquired, turning his head away from her.

"You didn't harm anyone, let's get that out of way," she answered, holding up her hands. Lowering them, she elaborated, "You did break into Captain Spock's quarters, though. Admiral Kirk found you sitting in there."

"Oh, great," he mumbled under his breath.

"I'm sorry I didn't watch you," she said quietly.

He waved a hand in the air. "You shouldn't have to. I'm a grown man."

"There is an alternative," she began.

"Tranquilizers," he responded, turning back to look at her. With a grunt, he raised himself onto the palms of his hands. "Considering what happened, I think I'll have to look into them. Just don't want my brain turned to mush, though."

"I'll prescribe a light dose. Should be enough to keep you from wandering off again," she offered.

"I won't be me, then," McCoy muttered, "but I haven't been, either. All right, I'll take a dose, just not right now."

Chapel nodded. Noticing the slight smile on her face, McCoy asked, "What the hell's so funny?"

"Just thinking of the polywater intoxication incident," she replied.

He returned the smile. "Better times, I suppose."

"Another thing. The Admiral wants to see you."

"All right. I'd better get dressed, then." He reached to take off the heart monitor, only to grunt in annoyance when Chapel brushed off his hand to do it herself.

Before Kirk could say anything, McCoy cut him off. "If you ask how I'm feeling, that's a moot question."

Kirk attempted to play it off with humor. Folding his hands behind his back, he replied, "Actually, I was going to ask you how it became so drab here in sick bay. Wouldn't a little color make things livelier?"

McCoy awarded the comment with a smirk. It fell away, however. "I guess this is goodbye, then, Jim."

Kirk gave him a sharp look. "No." The word was quiet, but said with an intensity that made McCoy stare at him. In a low tone, he said, "I'm not leaving you behind."

"I'm pretty much useless around here, at this point," he explained, his shoulders raising, "If you're going to insist on keeping me on duty while I'm taking tranquilizers, then I'm going to have to reconsider your competency."

"Oh for—That's not what I meant, Bones!" Kirk responded in annoyance, starting over to him, "Just because you'll no longer be in the service, it doesn't mean I can't talk to you. Keep in touch with me. I'll be there if you need me."

"I don't want you to remember me like this."

"We're not having a repeat of Yonada," Kirk replied firmly, "I don't care what you look like. I will see this through to the end with you."

McCoy nearly quipped at him but decided against it. Kirk was thinking of Spock's empty chair on the bridge. Quite frankly, Kirk still didn't understand that he had lost. In acquiescence, he muttered, "Fine."

"All right," Kirk said with a nod, "let's call your daughter."

XXXXXX

Joanna wasn't sure if he did recognize this man who lay before her. He was her father, physically, and she knew that. The last time she had seen him sober was during his call to her from the Enterprise. Kirk had been with him.

She'd been caught off-guard by the utterly dead expression on his face. She had known that something had gone wrong, due to the lack of contact from the Enterprise, but that lack of light in his blue eyes caused her blood to run old.

By the time she had arrived on her ship, McCoy had already taken his first dose. Her interactions with him were foggy, as if a veil covered him. She'd seen him like this, before, as a little girl, and the fear coiled about her. She didn't want him to be taken away from her, mentally, again. "Daddy?" Joanna whispered, her voice straining, and her hands shaking at her sides.

McCoy slowly turned his head to look at her, and her breath caught in her throat at the sheer vacant expression on his face. He appeared to be looking right through her. "Is there something you need, Joanna?"

Joanna swallowed heavily. "Are you in there, Dad?"

Propping his elbow on the couch cushion, he rose slightly up. "I do not understand. Why are you asking an illogical question?"

Her knees gave, and she fell to the floor before him. McCoy tilted his head to the side. "Joanna? Is there something wrong?"

Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she replied, "No, nothing at all," she clawed at the carpet beneath her as she continued, her teeth gritting, "Everything's just fine."

XXXXXX

Two days passed by slowly. Whenever Leonard slept in bed, Joanna would place a makeshift pallet for herself on the floor. Motor functions were slowed considerably by the drugs, but not to the point of lack of bodily autonomy. Nevertheless, she felt isolated. McCoy was trapped in his own body, and the room seemed oppressive, the familiar furnishings and decorations dull and hollow.

In a side room, she reached out via commlink to space.

"Hey, Jo!" Lieutenant Kazuo Fuse beamed as he greeted her. A bowl of half-eaten food sat off to the side, while he sat on a chair. Behind him on the wall was a picture of a landscape of the Tango Peninsula of the Kyoto Prefecture. An earth-dweller for all his life, he tended to look at it when feeling homesick for the house he shared with Joanna. A doorway to a side room had a picture of a smiling blue flower on it. Joanna felt sad at its image.

"Hi honey," she replied, "How is it in space?'

He chuckled. "Boring as usual. I guess I should be grateful for that."

"That's good. Where's Akira?"

Kazuo shrugged. "I put him down to his nap about fifteen minutes ago. The Mahoney's hums are better than a lullaby. Kid's out like a light." Reaching for his food, he asked, "How's he holding up, Jo?"

Joanna lowered her shoulders with a heavy sigh. "He barely even remembers me. It's as if his mind isn't there. I'm considering getting a healer, if things get much worse. It's selfish, I know, but I want him to remember me when he…." Her voice trailed off, and she gathered herself to continue, "Passes on."

"Does your mom know?"

"Like she gives a shit," Joanna muttered bitterly, folding her arms upon the table, "Of course she does, but I don't want her near him."

Kazuo twisted noodles between his chopsticks. "Do you think that's the right thing to do?"

"I don't think he'd want her here," Joanna muttered. With a shrug, she added, "Besides, Aunt Donna would kill me if I let her see him, especially like this."

"And what's your opinion?" He asked, scrubbing over a plate and glancing up at her.

She stirred her coffee absent-mindedly. "Mom loves Clay, and me, in that order. She doesn't love Dad." Stopping, she added, "It's petty of me to think that, I know."

Swallowing, he commented, "Seems like you don't want to let go of him."

"He left me on Centaurus for several years, all because of some stupid fight he and Mom had," lowering her eyes, she added, "At least, that's what I used to tell myself. That distance will always be between us. But it's gotten smaller, over the years. I don't want to lose him." And Spock was robbing her of him. It angered her. "Now, though, he barely even recognizes me."

"I'm so sorry," her husband replied sympathetically.

Rustling whispered in the next room, and she spun around, looking at the closed door. "Wait a sec. Dad?"

A cry drew her attention. Kazuo's head whipped around. "Uh oh." He sighed as he understood that it was his son's cries. "Poor thing."

As he stood, Joanna asked, "Is he still having bedwetting problems?"

Kazuo frowned. "Yeah, he is. He was so proud of himself for sleeping dry the last three days, too." He pulled a towel from near the sink, and asked, "Wanna see him? I'll clean this up later."

"Sure." As Kazuo departed the room, Joanna's eyes flicked to the closed door again. Rising, she walked over to it.

Her hand was raised to knock when a voice cheerfully called from her viewscreen, "And here's the man of the hour!" Kazuo had returned with a bundle, wrapped in the towel, in his arms. A dark head stuck out of it, and sleepy eyes blinked at her. "See, Akira? It's Mommy."

Joanna smiled, and waved at him. "Hi sweetie."

Akira blinked, and yawned. He swallowed and gave a small sob. Kazuo reached up with a tissue and wiped at his tears.

"Don't worry Akira, I'll be home soon. Be good for Daddy, all right?" Joanna glanced up at Kazuo, who smiled, and kissed his son's head reassuringly.

A thump sounded, and Joanna swung about in her chair. "Kaz, I really think I need to get going."

"Say no more. Bye, love."

Off-lining the screen, she rose, and headed back into the main room. "Dad, you okay?" At the lack of an answer, she moved quietly, thinking him to be asleep.

Joanna's stomach dropped as she took in the sight of the couch, the blanket rumpled, and the pillows lumped, but empty. The door was shut, and empty tranquilizer bottles lay on the floor. She whispered "no" rapidly as she charged throughout the apartment, glancing about. The few rooms within were empty. Exclaiming in frustration, she ran back into the anteroom, snatching her keys off the counter, and running into the corridor, slamming the door shut behind her.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" Someone yelled after her. Apartment doors opened, and heads poked out in curiosity at the sound of her pounding feet. Searching blindly, she took the stairs two at a time, and sprinted out into the parking lot.

People stared as they walked by, with her cupping her hands around her mouth, and calling out, "Dad, where are you?" She dashed around the lot, her hands out, swinging her gaze back and forth. The blood roared in her ears, and she felt a chill rush over her. Realizing that she had lost, Joanna plodded heavily past her hovercar. She had half a mind to kick it in frustration, but instead slumped against the apartment's exterior wall. Leaning against it, she breathed heavily, and swallowed, pulling out her communicator. Catching her breath, she punched in the command to contact James Kirk. As the communicator attempted to connect, she whispered, "Please be there, please be there!"

She gasped as she heard him greet her. "Joanna, what's wrong?" Kirk asked, his tone immediately switching from friendly to concerned.

"It's Da—I mean, Dr. McCoy. I don't know where he is."

A pause came, and Joanna felt embarrassed. When Kirk replied, he sounded as if he was squaring himself. "Do you know how he left?"

"It wasn't by hovercar. Mine's still locked." She shuddered at the thought of McCoy operating it while still half-doped on tranquilizers.

"We'll have to check public transportation registers from here," Kirk decided, half-muttering under his breath as if he was speaking to someone just out of the communicator's range, "Shouldn't be difficult, considering he would've needed his ID to get on."

Joanna slid down to sit on the sidewalk. "It doesn't make sense, though. It's as if he shook off the effect of the drug completely."

"Ambassador Sarek has the answer for that," Kirk replied briskly, indicating that he needed to terminate the communication soon.

"Sarek?" Joanna whispered in response. Suvak, from all those years ago, appeared in her mind. Her ex-boyfriend was walking along beside her in botanical garden in Centaurus City, his hands folded serenely as he offered her the prospect of becoming his wife. She swallowed as it made some amount of sense, despite her having a lack of a complete picture. "Spock."

"Don't worry, we'll find him," Kirk reassured.

"You'd better," Joanna responded, her voice becoming harder, "I won't forgive myself if something happens to my dad."

"Joanna?"

She lowered her eyes to stare at her boots. "Yeah?"

"It'll be all right."

She didn't hear from Kirk again, after he closed his side of the link, for months.

XXXXXX

Rain pounded on the roofs above, and people cried out in terror and fear.

Commands sounded, and medical gurneys rumbled. Her hair tied back, and a mask over her mouth, Joanna threw herself into her profession, ordering the less experienced on how to use practical techniques. Cries of pain from patients not used to more primitive methods sounded. Faces and limbs contorted in pain. She clutched at hands that groped at her and gave gentle reassurances. Impending doom hung over the dark hospital, yet the doctors and nurses performed like clockwork. Might as well give them a gentle death, some dark part of her thought.

Slumping down in the break room, Joanna raised her head to stare at the fluorescent bulbs, which had burned out. Her thoughts swam in her exhaustion. She didn't want to die like this, but that wasn't a question anymore. Earth would go out with a whimper, and not a bang. She placed her hand over her stomach and sighed. The positive result had come in a week ago, and she'd hoped for a little girl.

Her mother and maternal stepfather were far from harm's reach, being on a diplomatic mission. Her husband and son were also safe, being off-world. Her paternal step-grandmother would be all right, as well, being on Vulcan. Her step-grandfather would die with her, but she didn't want to feel pity for Sarek, as the Vulcan would likely consider it an affront to his dignity. But her father…He'd never know about his second grandchild.

Kazuo was smiling at her in that carefree way of his, his hair plastered down by sweat, and soot on his face from engineering. She was shaking her head at him in her annoyance with his propensity to put himself in the ship's guts. He was bouncing Akira on his lap, the baby boy laughing.

Joanna smiled sadly. "I love you, Kaz."

The lights came back on immediately, and she cried out, shielding her eyes from the assault. Exclamations of surprise sounded as the lights clicked back on. Joanna jumped up from her chair, and immediately ran back into the fold, yelling, "All right, the lights are back on! Big fucking deal! We have people to help!"

Under the same sky, seven former crewmembers of the Enterprise and a twentieth-century Earth woman were scrambling back into the warmth of the Bird of Prey. Light-hearted laughter sounded, the tones of the conversations light.

Spock shivered at the cold and dampness of his robes. A warm hand found and grasped his. Spock felt the warmth trail into himself from the contact of the man's skin. Lifting his head, he stared at his waterlogged mate, and found that the sight of him to be welcoming. "Wanna warm up with me? Showers are cold on this damn ship, so it'd be better with two of us."

Spock raised an eyebrow at him. "That would be agreeable." Reaching out, McCoy grasped the bottom of his jaw, and brought him to himself for a gentle kiss. Spock grasped his arm, and said against his lips, "Come then, doctor."

XXXXXX

Joanna paced back and forth about the boarding area. The Enterprise-A was on its way back to dock after its test flight, and on board was her father and stepfather. She was relieved that the crew had been absolved of their charges, but she didn't feel ready to see them again. She fiddled with her hands. Within a few days' time, anyway, she would be gone again with her ship.

The bridge crew would be the last to disembark, she knew, and watched the others walk by. Replacement crew members, some veterans. A familiar face caused her breath to catch. "Dr. Chapel!"

Chapel paused and turned at the sound of her voice. "Joanna," she walked over to greet her, "How are you?"

She sighed. "Tired. It's been a long few days. I'll be happy to get away from San Francisco. I've been here too long." Chapel looked surprised at that but gave her a sympathetic expression. Joanna opted to change the subject. "How's Lieutenant Rand?"

Allowing Joanna to use her as a bracer, she replied, "Janice is Janice. She's wondering how I'm still crazy enough to fly under Captain Kirk. I told her that old habits die hard."

"Could I ask a question about that?" Joanna inquired.

"Sure."

"You and my dad, you went into space to find something. My dad wanted to find peace. You wanted to find your fiancé. Was it worth it?"

"That's more a question that your father could answer," she replied simply, "But as for me, I can't say." Watching others descending past them, she explained, "Roger broke my heart. For all the wealth of knowledge that the mission afforded me, I did have to learn a few things that I wished I had not known, and," she folded her arms, "I had my emotions twisted in ways I had not considered before."

Joanna could hear his voice before even seeing him. It was pitched low and seemed to have a sense of irritation. Glancing past Chapel, she saw Leonard descending from the ship, arguing with Spock about something. Spock made a gesture, and McCoy's eyes followed it. When he saw her, he stopped mid-step.

"Dad," Joanna greeted, feeling as if she had to pull her voice out of her throat. McCoy started quickly toward her. Joanna felt his arms encircling her to bring her tightly to him, though with less strength now, given his age. She held in a sob and straightened out her face. She wasn't going to break in front of him. "I missed you so much."

"Me too, sweetheart," he replied softly, turning his head into her hair. For a moment, he relaxed there, and was away from the fear of death, and the sadness that had passed over him. Oh, she had grown! It never failed to surprise him, even now. She was an officer, a wife, and a mother. And yet, for as distant from each other as they were, they clutched at each other. Lieutenant Joanna Fuse and Lieutenant Commander Leonard McCoy didn't exist, right there.

But then, her vision focused over McCoy's shoulder, and her eyes widened at the sight of Captain Spock, standing quietly in the background. For a moment, Joanna wanted to grab her father's arm, and tug him away. People didn't come back from the dead. But she chose against doing so. Instead, she turned her head to whisper in his ear, "I'm pregnant."

McCoy paused in surprise, and then squeezed her. "Oh, for God's sake, kid," he muttered, "Next time get me flowers or something when I come home."

Joanna laughed, burying her head against the side of his neck. McCoy squeezed her tightly against himself. Life moved on, regardless of everything.

XXXXXX

McCoy felt a ghost moving over him at the sight of his apartment.

The tranquilizer tubing was gone, the furniture moved back to how it was once before. There was plenty of blame to assign to Spock for this, but he didn't want to, not now. They'd gone over it before, on Vulcan. "I need to move," he muttered.

Spock, from where he stood by the counter, felt his husband's entrapment. "If you wish to do so, I will assist," he offered.

McCoy felt as if the room was crowding in on him. Saying nothing, he walked across the room, and undid the latch holding the doors to the balcony shut. Late afternoon light hit his eyes, causing him to look slightly way as he stepped out. Placing his hands upon the sill, he stared down at the lights of the city, and the dark figures of ground cars. Two hundred years ago, San Francisco had blazed. The bay had burned from nuclear weapons. And, decades before then, he had walked those streets. He lowered his head. The past couldn't be changed, and his crewmates and he had already done enough damage. He was sick of regrets.

Staring out from the balcony, he saw Spock's shadow cover his hands. The city below suddenly seemed too wild and out of sorts beneath the descending sun. He wanted to shut it all out and move back into the darkness. He retreated from the balcony, and back into the safety of the living room. Spock followed him and brought his hands up on his shoulders. "What is wrong?"

McCoy's eyes remained out of focus as he asked, "Are you here?"

"I am here," Spock replied. McCoy lowered his head, and his lips moved. No sound, to Spock's knowledge, came out. "Leonard?"

He closed his eyes, and replied, "Show me." Spock was about to comment that he had no further evidence to present, when his mate entreated, with a note of desperation, "Please."

Spock started quietly forward and picked up Leonard's hands. He rested his own palms to his and interlocked their fingers. The desperation pulsed through to him, striking him like electricity. There was fear and grief, still. Spock felt as if the man was tugging him under with sheer want. McCoy's previous nightmares of their merging too closely rose again, the warnings ignored, as he now possessively wanted everything.

But what held him back was the fact that he didn't wish to harm Spock. Back after the release of the whales, Spock had allowed McCoy to explore his body and return to the man that he had once known. This, however, was something else.

Lowering his head, he kissed along the side of his neck, pausing to breathe in his smell. He ran his tongue experimentally along McCoy's neck, causing the other to shudder and groan. He licked all over him and nuzzled him in a manner almost feline on Sarpeidon, with the woman Zarabeth standing from the crackling fire, and leaving the cave. Tugged in by the human's desire for him then, he'd buried his raw lust into thick animal skins. McCoy had clawed at him, then, scratching and biting him possessively, with the mantra of "mine, mine, mine" passing through both of their minds. They'd been violent, and cruel to each other then, raw as they were. Yet, this was a different sort of rawness here, one that was gentler. They weren't keeping one another from pulling away, this time.

McCoy raised a hand to his own jacket button, and undid it, the flap falling open. Spock's hand came up and undid his mate's belt. The jacket hit the floor, the belt making an audible click. Guided by Leonard, he dug his hands under his mate's turtleneck. He was shyer about touching the doctor, now. Still, he couldn't help his curiosity, dragging the tips of his fingers over the soft skin. McCoy felt breakable to him, in his old age, yet he didn't fear due to familiarity. If there was any concern Leonard had, it was for Spock. Leonard slowly nuzzled up against his shoulder. Spock's grip slid, and McCoy stopped, breaking off to soothe him. He reached out and grasped Spock's wrists gently. "It's okay," he whispered, "We can stop, if you want."

"I do not wish to do so," Spock replied. He wished to express a desire for more time but found that the words weren't needed. Moving the side of his head against McCoy's, he sighed against him. McCoy let go, allowing Spock to caress and gently scratch at his skin with his fingernails. The doctor groaned softly against Spock's ear. They weren't looking at each other, but they could feel each other's pleasure. "God, I've missed this," McCoy whispered.

He'd burned for this man in the past, and the fire disturbed him for a moment, in its intensity. Leonard, however, had paid no heed to the danger. They had burned multiple times through their bond. Now remained sparks with which he desired to rekindle the flames. The shirt joined the jacket on the floor, and Spock's fingers ran over him inquisitively at the sounds he drew from him. McCoy rocked slightly, his one foot trailing off the floor, and Spock realized that the doctor was going to fall if he wasn't careful. Noticing Spock's concern, he reached out, grasping onto the Vulcan's uniform to steady himself. He glanced up at him and gave a nod.

Spock raised a hand to Leonard's head, and the doctor closed his eyes, taking him into the depths of his mind. What usually was a barely ordered chaos devolved into darkness. And in that darkness, he found it. Some part of McCoy hadn't integrated correctly back to reality. Some part of him lingered in the past, fearing that he had failed at the fal-tor-pan. This, to him, was but a dying dream. He remained in that darkness, between fragments of memories, only to fall into oblivion. Spock reached out a hand to him and tugged him free of the shadows.

"I am here, Ashayam," Spock breathed in his ear, "We survived." McCoy buried his head in his shoulder, saying nothing in his embarrassment. In retrospect, it was foolish that he hadn't moved on. He was too old for this. Spock cradled his half-naked husband against himself, stroking along his spine. McCoy breathed slowly into his chest. His Vulcan was the death of him.

XXXXXX

"Why do we not share the same quarters?" Spock asked once, watching McCoy placing his personal items in his quarters on the Enterprise-A.

He shrugged. "Different habits. Your habit of getting out of bed to meditate woke me up a few times. I'd be so tired after getting up that I nearly knocked your stuff over more than once. You weren't inclined toward my leaving liquor bottles lying around, and I understood that you'd rather have time to yourself while Jim and I drank in my room."

"But it was not out of disdain for our personal practices?" Spock asked.

"Nope, never. Things were different on Earth, though, environmentally and duty-wise. Regardless, we had other rooms to work with if you needed," he explained.

Glancing over at the small fire pot burning in the corner of his quarters, Spock commented, "We used candles, once."

Leonard smiled. "Back on Earth before Sulu and Chekov's wedding. I thought I'd try something a bit more traditional. Dumbest idea that I had."

"I do not recall a fire," Spock pointed out.

"Yeah, but in retrospect it was too sentimental. Besides, we couldn't see what we were doing, and ended up fumbling around in the dark."

A bare hint of a smile was on Spock's face as he called how the session had been rather amusing, with McCoy's groans of annoyance and mumblings under his breath, and his pinning the doctor's wrists above his head to stop his flailing. McCoy felt his amusement and folded his arms with a smug look on his face at Spock's arousal from the memory. "Want to try it again?"

"When we have time," Spock replied, "For now, what we have will suffice."

Still, it was odd to hear his door chime a greeting at two in the morning. He would either call for McCoy to enter, or the doctor would override the lock with his code. McCoy would pause at the door frame upon entering.

"Have you trouble sleeping?" Spock would inquire.

"Not really," he would reply, "Just wanted to make sure you were still here."

Spock found it strange, lying beside McCoy, and watching the man sleep. His back was to Spock, and he was completely vulnerable. It made sense, as he was resting, but nevertheless Spock felt a sense of tentative relaxation in watching him share his bed, one arm flung up on the pillow. He didn't wish to touch him, rather to just watch him rest. Many times, he had seen him like this, in the past, and had felt a sort of normalcy by seeing him. Leonard was there, and all was well. He found also, in the mornings after, he liked clearing off the pillow his mate used, and finding brown strands of hair on its surface, tokens of the night before.

They had their bad nights, as well.

McCoy was yanked from his dreams with the feeling of fear lancing through him. His eyes snapped open, barely registering his surroundings. Breaths drew quick beside him, and hands tugged on him, drawing him closer, and threatening to rip at his clothing. He was dragged closer to that source of fear, feeling rather than seeing it. Seizing the back of his assailant's wrist, and hanging on for dear life, he exclaimed, "Spock, wake up!"

A breath gasped, and the fingers immediately released. "Leonard?" A voice, uncharacteristically confused, inquired.

Rising, McCoy knelt upon the bed beside Spock, and gently ran his hand through his rumpled hair, and over his spine. He himself felt tired from being woken up early like this but found little reason to care. Spock's hair felt soft, as did the pajamas covering him. They were also moist from his sweat. Leaning down, McCoy kissed the back of his neck. "It's okay, darling. You're safe now," he whispered.

Spock glanced about before his hand slowly came up. McCoy caught it and guided it back to the surface of the bed. He steadied his breathing before giving a nod. McCoy's hand moved up to brush his hair aside. Spock slowly closed his eyes, not wanting to look at him, and become embarrassed by his own fear. McCoy frowned at that and leaned upon the bed. "You don't have to hide that."

"The human saying would be 'spare me my pride,'" Spock replied.

McCoy scoffed at that, glancing about the room. "You don't have to worry about pride around me. Doctor patient confidentiality."

"We blurred those lines too often," Spock muttered, attempting to pat his hair back down, and ultimately choosing to abandon the task, his hand slipping away, "It was not wise."

"We're still alive," McCoy replied, his tone becoming stern as he looked down at Spock, "If our relationship had become inappropriate, Jim would not have allowed it to continue, as was."

"You seemed not to adhere to my orders," Spock pointed out.

"I never outright disobeyed them," McCoy corrected.

Spock slowly relaxed, and McCoy lowered his hands to him. One hand ran over his back. Continuing his stroking, McCoy softly began to sing to him.

Spock opened an eye. "I do not understand the meaning of this tune. Its wording is not logical."

"It's just supposed to calm you down to sleep," McCoy reminded him, feeling a twinge of annoyance at the fact that Spock was backsliding into dissecting things in a logical manner.

"Then it is not fulfilling its function," Spock decided, "It is merely enticing me to decipher its possible meaning." He slowly tilted his head. McCoy raised an amused eyebrow as he commented, "Ah yes, I see."

Spock's breathing slowly relaxed, and his head lolled slightly along the pillow. Pleased with himself, the doctor smiled, and slid back under the covers. McCoy brushed against the sleeping man's cheek with the back of his knuckles. "I won't let you go again."

XXXXXX

Steam rose from the cups of tea. Joanna's glance was fixed on the trees towering beneath the table. It would have seemed that she was watching the birds below, but the lack of movement of her eyes indicated otherwise to Spock.

The meeting between them had been arranged by video call. Joanna had requested for her father to not be in attendance, and Spock had agreed. The café was small and located deep within the civilian district of San Francisco. Spock had been thankful for Joanna's discretion, as the Starfleet Academy grounds had given him to an unwanted celebrity status of a man being brought back from the dead.

She sighed heavily. "You caused my dad so much pain. He was nearly institutionalized because you placed his katra in him and didn't have the courtesy to tell anyone." Spock did not contradict her, and she shook her head. "Dad loves you, and I respect that. But I don't trust you."

Spock inclined his head toward her. "Then I am willing to do anything to regain that trust."

"Not now, Spock," Joanna replied quietly.

"I understand."

Her stepfather's reply gave her pause. She glanced up at Spock, who explained, "I placed your father in danger to himself through the transfer of my katra. How I did so also employed subterfuge. There are reasons to doubt me."

Joanna nodded. "Then at least we understand each other, then."

"Indeed," Spock agreed.

The silence afterward felt awkward to Joanna, and she rose. "I have to return to my ship. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me."

"You do not need to thank me, Joanna," he replied gently, watching her give him a quick salute before leaving.

XXXXXX

Saavik read over the results of her tests with a nod of satisfaction. "It would have complicated matters. I am sorry."

McCoy tapped his pen. "You did what you considered to be the logical thing at the time. And frankly, if you hadn't done that, we would've lost Spock forever." He'd been cuckolded before, but that occasion had been different. Jocelyn was long gone, now. And as for Zarabeth, Spock had not been in his right mind. McCoy still disliked thinking on how he had also acted, that day. Let alone the fact that he couldn't speak, given the case of Natira. No, Saavik had done the only practical thing, and he was willing to let that rest. It wasn't necessarily Spock that had been inside that shell. Placing his hand on Spock's body, on Genesis, he had felt fear upon whispering, "His mind's a void." He hoped never to feel that emptiness again.

Saavik nodded quietly. "However, I think that it would be best if I requested a transfer off this ship. There is too much of a conflict of interest." She glanced to the side. "My husband concerns me."

"Xon," McCoy replied sympathetically, "How is he?"

"He is continuing to undergo physical therapy," she answered, "I assisted him when I could, on Vulcan." She lowered her eyes. "I prefer not to speak on that matter further."

He acquiesced, respecting her wishes. "Then we won't. However, I sympathize with your reasons for requesting a transfer."

Saavik lowered her chin. "Thank you." After a paused she inquired, "May I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"Why do you blame yourself?"

He immediately regretted allowing her a question, but nonetheless put his pen aside to answer her. "Because I don't want to blame him."

Saavik stood. "I suppose half-breeds can make difficult partners."

McCoy know that she was attempting to make a parting joke at her own expense but decided against allowing her the luxury. "I've neither said nor implied anything of the sort. You're half Romulan. Spock's half human. Doesn't matter. I've met full Vulcans who have acted despicably, especially when they should have known better. But, then again, this isn't about morality, anyway." Rising from his chair, he added, "This is the ramblings of an old fool that's been married three times, so take from it what you will. It's more about selfishness and pride, than much else. We don't like sharing our loved ones with the universe, and why not?" He waved an arm. "Because it scares us, as much as we like to deny it. It's cold, and it hurts, in more ways than we can even fathom. We don't want them to feel that pain."

"But pain is inevitable," Saavik replied.

"Of course," he replied, "but in some ways, it feels personal. Would you have said that, Saavik, if Xon had been tortured by a race other than the Romulans?"

"I do not know," she replied quietly, folding her hands, "My comment was not logical." Her gaze was distant as she thought something over. Meeting his again, she decided, "I would prefer to no longer speak on this matter."

"That's fine," McCoy allowed.

With a nod and an address of "Doctor," Saavik turned on her heel to leave the room.

XXXXXX

"You okay?" McCoy asked, preceding his question with a kiss to the top of Spock's head.

"I am not ill," Spock replied, his pen not stopping.

McCoy lowered his head and kissed behind Spock's ear. His pen slipped slightly. "That's good. You know, we haven't had much time to ourselves, lately."

"Indeed," he replied. Leonard was correct; outside of sleep, the reformatting of the new Enterprise's crew roster, and the changing of duty causing the ship to go on patrol.

Leonard could feel that Spock was finding his work less interesting, his attention drifting more toward the mouth just behind his ear. McCoy's fingers found the clasp of Spock's uniform. "Come to bed."

"I am working," Spock replied.

Running his other hand teasingly along his mate's inner thigh, McCoy asked, "You sure it can't wait until tomorrow, love?" His fingers brushed over Spock's crotch once before retracting to continue to stroke along his pant leg.

"Leonard," he muttered.

"Glad to see I have your attention," he teased.

Spock reached out and grasped his shoulder tightly. "You lack restraint, Ashayam."

"You complaining?" He asked, raising his eyes in mock innocence at him.

Spock spared the PADD one last glance. If he truly needed McCoy to stop, the doctor would be willing. The ship was most important. However, this could wait, as he was merely getting ahead on his tasks. He had, as of late, buried himself back in work, given his free time. Diversions, he recalled, he had given little time to diversions. Chess, books, music…

The clasp came undone, and Spock, with a muted growl in his throat, reached for Leonard, standing up quickly. McCoy grinned as he was seized, and Spock desired to take that look off his face. Spock was efficient this time as he stripped him, with clothing slipping to the floor. McCoy's smile slipped as he stumbled on a loose article of clothing, only for Spock to grasp him firmly by the arm.

Tugging back Spock's sleeve, he kissed along his wrist. Spock's grasp grew harder on his arm, only for him to yank Leonard forward. His skin scratched against Spock's uniform as he stepped close to him. Grasping Spock's chin to raise, he kissed along his neck. Possessively, he crossed one leg around Spock's, and began to rub up against his crotch. Spock's fingers lowered over McCoy's buttock, grasping it to pull him into him. McCoy ground into him, groaning. Spock cleared away the gray hair from his mate's forehead. Their sweat and saliva mingled as McCoy grasped the clasp of Spock's uniform, once again, and undid it. The pants were the next to go, McCoy rubbed up against cloth once before he felt his cock seized by Spock's hand to rub against the Vulcan's member. Moaning into Spock's mouth, his hands twisted against cloth and exposed skin. With a low growl in his throat, he lifted one hand from Spock's uniform to grasp the back of his head and tug him in. His leg wrapped ever more tightly about Spock's, causing the Vulcan to lift him somewhat from under his buttock to keep him from falling on the floor.

McCoy's free hand scrabbled against Spock's uniform, practically ripping at the fabric. He grunted and groaned, trying to get some amount of relief. Spock released his penis, and, brushing at his hand, undid the belt. McCoy let go of him, leaning back against his arm to pull his leg out from behind him. The turtle neck, when he pulled it off Spock, left his mate's hair kinked. McCoy licked his lips at the visual. Spock didn't shiver but Leonard could feel the hairs raising on his skin. He kept his movements gentle, running his hands over his torso and arms. Responding to his touch, Spock brought them up and about him. McCoy walked him backward to the bed, and climbed onto it, bringing him with him.

"Lie down for me," McCoy commanded softly with a kiss to his head, "Let me take care of you tonight."

Spock complied, relaxing upon the bed. He felt somewhat vulnerable, as he hadn't been penetrated like this yet after his rebirth. The bed creaked under McCoy's weight as the doctor climbed on, as well, crawling forward to sit above him.

He could sense Spock's unsettled mood and lowered his hands to his back. Spock didn't groan but relaxed his breathing as he felt Leonard massaging his back. He recalled doing this Leonard more than once, in the past, as McCoy began to suffer the effects of arthritis.

"Just part of getting older," McCoy would mutter, rubbing at the back of his shoulder.

His fingers were deft, but soft, pressing down upon and smoothing out the knotted muscles. Shaking his head, he muttered, "Must be from having that stick up your ass." Spock turned his head slightly at his innuendo, and McCoy merely smiled before giving him an affectionate peck between his shoulder blades.

McCoy didn't mind it, if this was the extent of what Spock wanted tonight. While a tad disappointing, it was still satisfying. And nevertheless, it wasn't about him anyway.

Spock, however, arched into his hand, and McCoy slowly felt the anxiety growing more muted. McCoy's hand paused, and he asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"All right," he patted his back once, "Just give me a couple of minutes."

Spock pressed his head down onto the pillow beneath him. Feeling a warm hand stroking along his buttocks, he knew that McCoy was warning him. He parted them slightly to allow a finger, cool with lubricant, inside.

McCoy tilted his head, his other hand busy with coating his cock. He felt Spock's nerves about this, but they were continuing to dissipate. Spock drew him in, and he could only oblige, his conversation with Saavik pushed to the back of his mind. Spock shivered at his touch. Leaning down, he licked at his spine. Spock let out a muted groan as he rose slightly up. He was under him, and on the pillows, his fingers clutching at the sheets. McCoy buried his head between his husband's shoulder blades and breathed heavily his scent. "God, the things I want to do to you," he growled.

"We have time, th'y'la," Spock's voice was buried in his arm, the low tone startling McCoy. He immediately felt ashamed and thought he had gone too far when Spock reassured him, "I am not afraid."

McCoy pressed kisses slowly down his husband's spine. Stopping at his mid-to-lower back, he nuzzled all along it, running his tongue over patches of skin. Spock brought a hand to his mouth, catching his moans in it. McCoy raised his head and placed a kiss to his shoulder. "You okay?" Spock slowly lowered his hand with a ragged sigh. McCoy hesitated and waited for Spock to say it was too much. When he did not, he continued his kisses, running across his shoulder, and up his neck. Spock turned his head toward him, nuzzling up against him. McCoy possessively brought his arm about him, hugging him closer to himself. "I have you," he whispered, "Please, Spock, trust me." The Vulcan slowly loosened his control, and McCoy began to move against him.

It was slower than it once was, given their age. McCoy was gentle, as was typical of him. He'd grown more careful in penetration, even before his partner's death, after accidentally nicking Spock while fingering him. Spock grunted as he felt his husband's girth. McCoy sounded short of breath as he whispered in his ear, "Tell me if it hurts." Spock gave the slightest of nods, bending lower to the surface of the bed. The sheets and blanket swam beneath him.

It was slick. He could hear and feel it. He felt dirty and would otherwise have thought it unbecoming of himself. His grip on his control had once been fierce, in his younger years. Older age, however, had taught him to let go, if only somewhat. Spock felt as if he was drifting between two halves, rather than forcing himself to remain as a Vulcan.

He slackened completely, and relaxed, allowing gasps and moans to slip out of himself. McCoy kissed up the side of his neck, breathlessly whispering disjointed phrases and words. Spock was tempted to follow him into madness, and, feeling McCoy grinning against the side of his neck, gave into it. With a ragged groan, he arched back against his husband. Leonard dropped his head and sunk his teeth into Spock's shoulder as he came, his nails digging into Spock's skin. McCoy's climax hit Spock, who came shortly afterwards, his grip slackening from his cock as cum hit the sheets.

McCoy's elbow drove down onto the bed cover to keep himself from falling entirely upon Spock. Sweat plastered their hair and skin. Spock could hear grasps of what he was muttering into his back, sentimental as the words about his beauty and declarations of love were, the raggedness of them gripped him. He responded by tugging on his husband's arms, dragging him further about him as if they were one being. At a squeeze of Spock's hands, McCoy pulled out.

McCoy slowly let go and slid backward off his husband. Spock held out an arm to him. Grasping it, McCoy crawled over to lie down. Spock reached down and held his face between his hands. Images swam before them, and Spock whispered, "No more." They slowly dissipated, ghosts melting away. The doctor felt tired, and dizzy, closing his eyes. "I will ask the captain if he wishes to spend time with me," Spock decided.

Drawing an arm over his closed eyes, McCoy replied, "Of course Jim would, Spock."

"I am changed," Spock commented quietly.

"That doesn't matter to him."

"You understand how I have changed," he replied quietly.

"Yeah, but you can't close in on yourself," McCoy said gently, "Don't be afraid of your friends, Spock."

"I do not feel—" Spock broke off his statement at McCoy's annoyed expression. "Forgive me."

"Oh, my love," McCoy stroked the side of his head, "You don't need to ask for my forgiveness."

Spock realized, as Leonard's fingers ran over his skin and hair, why Joanna was upset with him. Leaning into his hand, he closed his eyes.

XXXXXX

"We would be wise to be cautious in our explorations near Klingon territory," Spock commented, gesturing over a map on a PADD on Kirk's desk, "While tensions have slackened, hostilities nonetheless remain."

"Agreed." Kirk off-lined the PADD, completing their meeting. The Vulcan, however, didn't leave. "What is it, Spock?" Kirk asked.

"We have often conducted less than formal conversations within each other's quarters, is that correct?" Spock inquired.

Kirk paused for a long moment, glancing over at the stack of books on his desk. "Yes, we have."

"Concerning diversions?"

"That's correct, also," Kirk replied slowly, daring not to hope.

"Could such conversations be resumed?"

Kirk smiled at him and reached for the top book on the stack, A Tale of Two Cities. Cracking it open, he replied, "I'll be happy to, Spock."

Spock sat down beside him and, as they spoke, slowly felt a sense of equilibrium settling back in.

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of notes on this one. Kazuo and Akira Fuse are my characters. Akira is named after the sci-fi manga/film Akira. The Mahoney is my creation. I had Joanna take on her husband's name to differentiate herself from her father, as she would likely be in McCoy's shadow.
> 
> The Kobyashi Maru incident is from The Captain's Daughter by Peter David, where Demora accidentally activates the Kobayshi Maru simulation, and lies to Hikaru after it. They have a bad fight afterwards that strains their relationship until after The Voyage Home. Chapel's hair is dark to reflect the fact that her air is dark during the TOS films. Xon being tortured by the Romulans is from the comic, "Blood Fever." Suvak is from "All the Infinite Ways."
> 
> There was a conversation between Sarek and Joanna I had in this that I had later cut due to it being essentially filler. Donna McCoy is from Crisis on Centaurus by Brad Ferguson. I was going to have her appear but cut her appearance due to the fanfic becoming too large. Joanna's comment about her mother loving her secondary in comparison to her mother's second husband is not to be taken at face value; Joanna said that in anger. Joanna being a member of Starfleet is a reference to the comic, "Year Four: Enterprise Experiment" by D.C. Fontana. I will cover the incident with Zarabeth in a later fanfic. There are some links between this fanfic and "Charon's Bargain," but it can stand alone.


End file.
